Greetings from the UK; or, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit

In future times of darkness or strife I think I will take comfort from the fact that I am not UK prime minister (at time of writing) Liz Truss. I mean, if Liz Truss were a person who engendered any sense of human empathy or sympathy I might actually feel a bit sorry for her (she's not, so I don't) because how do you ever recover from this level of personal and professional humiliation.

I think if I were Truss this would be the point where I'd try to rejoin the Lib Dems and pretend like this had all been a two decade long deep cover operation to infiltrate the Conservative party and destroy it from within, because, like, how else are you going to style it out at this juncture.

I am a bit annoyed that the government keeps threatening to collapse on days when I'm trying to concentrate on writing fic (my new modus operandi is to write nothing all year, and then 20k of edited fics in the six weeks that ficinabox and femslashex overlap *gulp*.)

And, like, can the government not just get on with collapsing. I don't have time to keep up with this, I have to come up with scenarios for the fictional ladies who live in my head to kiss.